Bonds
by aWICKEDgiraffe
Summary: Ryou Bakura, a poor salaryman, is ordered by the Chairman of the company he works for to house his son for one month in order to let him experience the poor way of life. Having no choice if he wants to keep his job, Ryou accepts: and Malik Ishtar moves in. Malik will discover many things, but will love be one of them? AU. Based on a short story in the manga BondZ by Touko Kawai.
1. Chapter 1

**Thursday, October 1st**

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Ishtar, you want me to do _what_?!"

The CEO tapped his cigar on the ashtray, his severe, perpetually disapproving face never ceasing its scowl. "In the future, Mr. Bakura, do not make me repeat myself. I want you to be ready for tomorrow evening, when my son Malik will arrive at your apartment for the purpose of staying with you for the next month." His gruff, angry voice made me flinch.

"Yes, sir, I understood that part, sir. Forgive me, I just meant to ask, u-um, why?"

The chairman set the cigar back in-between his teeth, and sighed out a puff of smoke. "For five generations, this business has been passed down from father to son, and very soon it will fall on _my_ son's shoulders. Yet I do not think he understands what this means for his future; what sacrifices he will have to make and what responsibilities will weigh on his back. He understands only that he is wealthy and enjoys very much the lifestyle I provide for him. This is where you come in, Mr. Bakura. I assume you're rather poor, yes? What with you only being an office aide and all."

I clenched my fist, out-of-sight of the boss of course, rather offended by being called 'poor'. It's true that sometimes I have trouble making ends meet, and sure I lived in a pretty shitty rental house, but did that really mean I deserved being insulted? "I suppose, sir, that does make me rather low on funds," I said, trying my very Olympic-best not to sound sarcastic.

It either worked, or he ignored my tone. "Well, I have become fed up with my son's expensive, extravagant lifestyle. I'm tired of all the drinking and the disappearances and the lazing about doing _nothing_ with his life. I've made up my mind to have him live with someone much less fortunate than us, to experience the poor way of life. I hope it will set his head back on straight and make him grow up."

Well okay, I can respect that. He's trying to make a decent man out of his wild son. But there still was one thing that was bothering me … "I understand sir. But if I may ask, sir-why did you pick me? There are plenty of other salary-workers here."

The chairman didn't say a word; he stopped chewing on his cigar and stared up at me with that unamused expression. Just around the time when I was thinking I should back up slowly and excuse myself, he answered. "You're not very impressive. I didn't even know you existed in my own company until I was looking for suitable candidates for my son. You live alone, you have no family, and you have no ambition. You're _perfect._"

_Why stop there_, I thought bitterly. _Surely there are many more faults of mine you could list before lunch hour._ Thinking I better leave the chairman's office before I said something I regretted, I said, "I understand. I will be ready to welcome your son into my home tomorrow evening. Good day, sir." I turned to the door.

"Mr. Bakura …"

I secretly closed my eyes in frustration, and then turned back around with a neutral expression. "Yes sir?"

He wasn't looking in my direction, but he had a strange kind of _wise_ look in his crinkled eyes. "This is not a one-way street, my boy. Perhaps you could learn from my son as much as he from you …" Before I could question his words, the moment was over. He turned back to me, harsh expression back in place. "You're dismissed."

I left, sincerely dreading the month to come.

**30 Days Left****—Friday, October 2****nd**

I watched irritably though the curtains of my front window as the long, sleek black car pulled into my driveway, making my '02 Nisan look like scrap metal in a junk yard in comparison. The driver parked and got out, immediately going to the passenger door and opening it for who I assumed was the chairman's son, the bane of my existence for the next month. Sighing, I rested my elbow on the windowsill and put my head in my hand. I bet he was going to be flashy and loud and demanding … well, if he thought I was going to _serve_ him like one of his bloody maids, he had another thing coming!

My interests were peaked when a long, lean leg appeared from within the car. Stylish cargos, neat black dress shoes-not too extravagant, so far. There's a bit of the torso, covered with a dressy black peacoat-he looked like he was struggling with something inside the car, so I couldn't see his neck or head yet-and then he finally stood up, and I saw Malik Ishtar for the first time.

My arm fell limply to the sill, and I must admit my mouth slipped open. He was a very handsome individual, with shoulder-length blonde hair cut in fashionable layers, a long graceful neck, and a strong, angular face. Designer sunglasses barred his eyes from view, but he seemed to be looking about the neighborhood with an air of distain—something I noticed that immediately snapped me back to reality. Beautiful or not, this guy was just some rich prick, and I was stuck with him for the next _month_.

The driver handed the youth two luggage bags from the boot of the car, and seemed to be reminding him that he was a guest here and to be on his best behavior, blah blah—I could tell because he got that sort of look on his face, nose scrunched and lip corners turned down, that a young boy gets when being chastised by his mother. I bet, behind those glasses' mirror-like surface, he was rolling his eyes.

Both the chairman's son and I watched as the driver got back into the car and drove away; Malik waited until the car was completely out-of-sight before he heaved a sigh and moved up the front walk towards the door. I left the window hastily, not wanting to be seen, and went to wait in the entrance hall.

Not soon after that, there were two swift raps on my front door. Taking a few seconds to straighten out my clothes and fix my tangled hair (I didn't want him to know I had been right there _waiting_ for him, like a butler or something) I put my hand on the knob and opened the door.

The first thing I noticed was that he was taller than me. I didn't really enjoy that fact, but since I was short and _most_ men were taller than me, I got over it. He was a foreigner anyway; I'm sure most Egyptians were normally taller than Asians, _not_ that I was using race as an excuse.

The second thing I noticed was that he was staring at me, looking me up and down and judging my appearance. It suddenly occurred to me that he was probably dreading the following days just as much as I was, maybe even more. To be forced to give up your wealth, even temporarily, must really suck.

"Are you going to let me in, or does your sort usually make your guests stay outside? Though, judging by this box you call a house, I would have more space this way anyway," he drawled, dropping one of his bags inconsiderately on the threshold, right on my foot.

Any feeling of sympathy that _might_ have been forming for this rude brat immediately vaporized at his words. My face colored three shades darker and I said, "_My sort?_ Just what do you mean by that, exactly?"

He crossed his arms haughtily, ready to rise to the challenge in my voice. "You know, _your sort_. Poor people."

I snapped. "Of all the rude, pig-headed, stubborn-_!_ You've not yet been here five minutes and you're already insulting me? Well, go to hell!" I kicked his bags out of my house as hard as I could and slammed the door in his face.

And then I panicked. '_I'm fired. I'm so, so fired. I've lost my job. I gotta look at classifieds, I have to get my resume updated, because I'm __**so**__ fired-'_

" …You can't leave me out here," came the muffled voice of my ex-boss's son, who had obviously not moved since I shut him out. The tone of his voice brought me out of my panic-attack—It sounded resigned, and _almost_ apologetic. Curious, I opened the door a smudge and peered out the crack.

"Why should I? You've made it clear you have no desire to be here, and I have no desire to be insulted by a would-be guest. So why don't you just call that fancy car back and go home to where you're more suited, and leave us 'poor people' to die in our boxes in peace?"

Malik looked uncomfortable at his own paraphrased words. "I … I can't. Father didn't allow me to bring my cell phone, and I don't know the driver's number without it. Look, just … just let me in, okay? I won't say anything else. It's cold out here. I'll die of frostbite."

I rolled my eyes, but accepted his implied apology. Besides, he looked kinda pathetic standing in the cold all alone, and it's really not in my nature to be inhospitable anyway. I opened the door all the way. "Fine, come in then. And take off your shoes, please."

The CEO's son gathered his belongings and strode through the front door, toeing his shoes off in the entranceway and absent-mindedly slipping his feet into a pair of house slippers—_my_ house slippers.

I shut the door behind my houseguest, scowling slightly to see my favorite slippers on his feet. But, in the spirit of being a good host, I didn't say anything and decided to remain barefoot.

"So, grab your stuff and follow me. I'll give you a small tour," I began in a business-like manner, hoping to get the kid relatively settled and out of my hair as soon as possible.

I showed him around; the living room, the kitchen and dining area, and upstairs to the bedrooms and the bathroom. When I got to the guestroom, I went inside and opened the curtains to shed better light on the place. "This is where you'll sleep, Malik. You can use the dresser for your clothes, or there's a small closet over there. You'll have to make do with only one blanket for now—if it really becomes bothersome, I can take you shopping and you can pick up another one."

Malik had not stepped inside with me; rather, he dropped his bags and looked around the small room with shock. "_This_ is where I'll be staying? Che, figures. Thanks a lot, _Dad._"

To say I wasn't irritated with this precocious brat would be lying through my teeth. Feeling like I'd had just about all I could take of the kid, I decided to leave to let him get settled. "Feel free to make yourself at home. I'll be downstairs if you need something." I started to walk away, but thought of something and turned back.

"Oh—when I mean 'need something,' I mean something _important._"

The face he made just before I shut the door in it was _totally_ worth unemployment.

**28 Days Left****—October 4****th**

"_Yaaaawnn …_"

It was around nine-thirty in the morning on a bright but chilly October Monday—or, at least, that's what I had to assume from the glances I was able to steal out of the tiny window near my equally minuscule cubicle, where I was trying to edit some of my department's reports. I hadn't been sleeping well lately … having lived alone for most of my life, Malik's presence changed the vibe of my home, and it felt alien and uncomfortable to me. Even though it'd been two-and-a-half days, I was still very sensitive to the noises and energies of another human being.

"Hey, Ryou-chan …"

Thoughts interrupted, I looked up to see one of my coworkers, Yugi Mouto, hanging over the top of my cubicle with an innocent, curious expression on his face.

"Hello, Yugi."

"I'm really curious to find out how the whole "boss's son" situation is going. He's been there … what, two days now?"

I smiled, though it was thin. "Malik-san came to my house Friday afternoon, after I got off work. So it's been two-and-a-half days, I guess. But it's been quite an experience for me, let me tell you," I said.

Yugi looked around conspiratorially for potential eavesdroppers before he leaned further over the wall and whispered, "I bet he's been a real stuck-up prick, hasn't he? Like those wealthy, famous types on TV."

I chucked softly at Yugi's stereotyping before shaking my head. "Actually, it's a little weird. He definitely started out having a really bad attitude, but either he gave in to this situation or I've been too distracted to notice it anymore," I said with a thoughtful expression. "Don't get me wrong—he's quite arrogant, but at the same time he's really unsure about a lot of things!"

At Yugi's curious prompting, I explained further. "He's a handful, not necessarily because of his attitude but because he's so _clueless_! Despite any assumptions we make about his glamorous life, the truth is that Malik-san is a very sheltered young man."

Yugi looked confused. "How do you mean?"

I sighed. "When he first got there, I figured the best thing would be for us to split the daily chores—since I have him, and I'm in charge of him, I have to teach him responsibility. I think that's the point of this." Yugi nodded; after all, it was a very logical assumption. "But it just ended up being more work—do you know what he did when I told him to wash rice for dinner? _Dumped the bag in the kitchen sink! _The whole bag!"

Yugi's eyes went wide. "Are you serious? Are you sure he didn't just do that to get on your nerves?"

"Pretty sure … he looked so lost while he was watching it go down the drain … like he expected something to happen automatically or something …" My eyes unfocused as I remembered his expression; thin eyebrows knitting together and straight, white teeth playing at moist lips … "It was kinda … _cute_ …"

"Ryou? Hello, Ryou? Earth to Ryou!"

"Wha …?"

Yugi rubbed the back of his head in a sheepish grin. "You spaced out. Did you really think the word _cute_? Ha-ha!"

I blushed. "Oh, bugger off! I didn't mean it that way! He's _not_ cute, not in the least! When I tried to see him off to school this morning, he didn't even know how to _get_ there without a chauffer! It was like he'd never even heard of a subway! I was late to work because I had to take him to the subway, buy him a ticket, and show him how to read a subway map! He's never turned on a stove, never boiled water, never gone to a grocery store … Ugh, what a nightmare!" I rubbed my temples.

Yugi blinked. "Wow. It's like you have a pet—a really large pet, haha!"

Suddenly, I could hear Yugi's desk phone ringing behind the cubicle wall. Yugi looked down, and then said, "Well, back to work! Good luck with the rest of your month, Ryou-chan!" Then he disappeared.

I turned back to my own work as well, needing to pick up the pace to make up for lost time. I certainly enjoyed Yugi, but he could be a chatterbox!

However, as much as I tried to work diligently, I found my thoughts frequently straying to my new "pet." Had I really called him … _cute?_ He'd cost me 1500 yen for an entire bag of gourmet rice! He'd caused nothing but a headache for me since he'd arrived …!

Unbidden, an image of Malik came into my head—an image formed just last night. He had been curled up on my couch like a cat, one hand bent under his head and the other clutching a school book, face peaceful and snoring softly … the only word that surfaced in my mind was _cute._

I shook my head. Yugi was right—it was like keeping a pet. A naïve, touchy little cat named Malik. He was only cute as a cat was cute—when it wasn't hissing and clawing the furniture.

Yes, that was all I meant. Confident, I focused on my reports.

**That afternoon …**

"Just an hour left!"

I smiled up at Yugi's spikey head. He always began a countdown to quitting time when it had been a long day. I hadn't ever gotten around to telling him that though I knew he meant well, it_ really_ made the time pass more slowly.

"Yes, thank you Yugi."

Sighing, I rubbed by eyes tiredly. They were all blurry from staring at these damn reports all day. I swear, it felt like I was doing the exact same report over and over again …

Suddenly, I felt a vibration in my trouser pocket. Taking out my cellphone, I looked at the caller ID, wanting to know if it was worth answering.

** DOMINO POLICE**

When I saw that name listed on the screen, my chest tightened in panic and a thousand possible scenarios gushed through my head. My house was on fire. My father was dead. My neighbor was drunk and had gotten into an accident.

When I hit the SEND button using all the courage I could muster, the last thing I expected to hear was Malik Ishtar's voice coming from the other line.

"Hello? Ryou—[umm, shit, I forgot his last name! What? Sorry.] Are you there?" The middle part had been fuzzy, as he'd obviously had the phone away from his mouth.

I tried to be annoyed, but I was still rather shocked. "M-Malik-san? What … what's the matter?"

"Umm … I need you to come and get me. I—I'm at the police station." Malik sounded really embarrassed, but I just felt panicked and started aching in the employment area.

"Oh god. What happened? What did you do?" Was I going to get fired?

"What? NO! No, no, no! I didn't do anything! God, no. I just … I don't want to get into it. I'm not in trouble. I just … can you _please_ come and get me?"

I would have been more forceful, maybe demanded an answer from him, but he sounded just as overwhelmed as I was, and really, really _upset__._

"…Okay. I'm on my way."

With a hurried goodbye to Yugi, I grabbed my keys and coat and flew to my supervisor's desk, ambiguously telling him that I had a "family emergency" and that I needed to go.

Normally I would have taken the subway to get to the police station across town, but since I was in a hurry I hailed a taxi instead. I got to the police station and raced inside, expecting flashing lights, paramedics, and possibly even the firefighters—what I _didn't_ expect was a furious-looking Korean cab driver and Malik Ishtar looking small and insignificant on a bench in the lobby.

"Malik-san?"

Immediately, the teen's head snapped up to me, and there was such a look of relief on his face that I though he might fall over. "You're here!" He made as if to get up.

Before he could, however, I had a face-full of angry Korean. "You pay! You pay! You pay!" He cried, in heavily accented Japanese. He held out his hand and poked me hard in the chest with his stiff fingers.

"Ouch!"

"Hey, Sok-ku-san, back off!" There was a police officer then, standing at Sok's side and dragging him out of the way.

I was still confused and still extremely nervous that something horrible had happened. "Would somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?!" I shouted, quite frustrated.

Slowly, the story unraveled before me. Malik had forgotten how to get back to my house, and though he had gotten off on the right subway stop he'd accidently gone in the wrong direction upon exiting the station. He'd wandered about a strange neighborhood for an hour before trying to hail a taxi—Sok's taxi. Sok had taken him back the way he came, but without my address it'd been a futile trip. Malik was still lost, and had only managed to wrack up a debt from the taxi's charge counter.

Sok had kicked Malik out of the car, but when Malik didn't have any money to pay him he'd called the police, and that's how Malik had ended up in the police station. Malik, in turn, had called me.

"Oh, is that all?" I said, extremely relived that no one was hurt and I could keep my job.

"Is that _all_?" Malik growled mockingly, turning towards me with fury. "It's a disaster! It's humiliating!"

"You pay!" Sok said again, somewhat less energetically than before.

Malik kicked him in the shins.

Ignoring Sok's indignant cries, I got out my wallet and handed the Korean a large bill. "Here, keep the change. Malik, let's go." Nodding to the policeman, who seemed rather glad that _someone_ had kicked Sok in the shins, I grabbed the back of Malik's coat and dragged him out of the door.

"Let go!" Malik struggled out of my grip once we had gotten outside.

"Malik …"

"No!" Malik was the epitome of distressed. He didn't ever look me in the eyes; instead just paced about with frustrated hands in his hair. His protests were weak and garbled. "Don't you … it wasn't my … quit looking at me like … _stop it_—"

I embraced him. The Egyptian froze in my arms, hands still wrapped in his hair, mouth agape. His entire body was tense, like a wild kitten being touched by a human for the first time, not knowing what it felt like to be held or how to react. As I breathed in the very pleasant aroma of jasmine coming from Malik-san's neck (cologne?) I felt deeply sorry for him. I can't imagine my grumpy old boss giving anything remotely close to _love_ to his son …

After a respectable duration, I let my arms slide from him and gave him a stunning smile. "Let's go home, Malik-san."

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

**25 Days Left—Wednesday, October 7****th**

"I'm home!"

I was very pleased (and secretly relieved) to see Malik in the living room, safe and sound for the third day in a row. "Welcome back," he said neutrally, looking up from a stack of papers.

"You managed to find the house yet again, Malik-san! Well done!" I teased, hanging up my coat and keys.

Malik flushed and scowled. "When are you going to let that go?!" He snarled defensively, throwing his pencil in my direction. I ducked, and it whizzed over my head harmlessly.

"Oh, I'd say about _never,_ haha!" I had to duck into the kitchen to avoid more flying projectiles, as Malik's curses resounded behind me. I couldn't help my childish giggles—sometimes it was really fun to be around the younger male!

I settled down, stretching my work-stiff muscles and putting on the kettle for some tea. A little frown set upon my lips. Even though things appeared normal between Malik and I, the truth was things had been a little tense for the past few days. The blonde had been quiet since the incident at the police station. Several times I'd caught him staring at me, a calculated and somewhat suspicious look on his face. But what he was wary of, I wasn't quite sure …

Ridiculously waving a white paper towel out of the door as a flag of truce, I walked back to the living room and asked Malik if he wanted a cup of tea, giving him a cheery smile.

Malik looked up at me with those lilac orbs, and once again his expression was chary and pensive. My face fell—I'll admit that I didn't like that kind of look on him.

I barely paid attention as Malik gave me an affirmative, and I wandered back into the kitchen to make up the tea bags.

'_Malik-san … do you trust me?'_ I wondered silently.

**24 Days Left—Thursday, October 8****th**

When I returned home the following night, I found Malik sitting on the couch, reading a rather _flowery_-looking manga. I almost sputtered in shock—Malik, reading manga? There was something almost ridiculous about the scene. Where had he gotten it anyway? I certainly didn't have anything like that around here …

"I'm home …"

"Welcome back," he stated dully, not really paying attention. I huffed, a little miffed at the lack of enthusiasm in his greeting.

"What are you doing?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. For some reason, the fact that he wasn't paying attention to me _bothered_ me, and I wanted to draw him into a conversation.

"I don't understand this," he said, still not looking away from the book. "This one character, a doctor, seems to like one of his coworkers—another guy who's just a nurse. But no matter how many times they get into situations, or end up alone somehow, he never acts upon his feelings. Why?"

I _did_ sputter that time. "M-Malik-san! Are you reading … _y-yaoi?_" I flushed brightly, barely able to say the genre name aloud.

Malik looked up from his book finally, but did not confirm nor deny my accusation. He merely raised an eyebrow and waited flatly for my shock to recede.

It did, and I went around to sit with him awkwardly on the couch. Fine, if he really wanted to have this conversation …

I looked at a few illustrations, and then replied, "Well, it's not that simple. Surely you know that society doesn't take well to two men being in a relationship! Especially if one of them is a doctor, a position of ultimate public trust! He can't just go around hitting on all the male interns; he'd lose credibility and maybe even his career."

Malik seemed vaguely annoyed with me. "He's not hitting on anybody. It's that nurse—see, right there—who he really has feelings for. So, it should be simple right? But the doctor avoids him! It's nonsense."

"You're reading too much into it. Obviously the author wants to keep the drama going for as long as possible. They can't get together just like that, or the story would be over!"

"That's not a proper explanation."

"Well what do you want? Mainstream society does not approve of homosexual relationships; the fact that there are books like this even _addressing_ the issue is amazing. This man, who is in a high position in that society, has a lot to lose if he follows his heart. Life is unfair like that, with more takes than give."

Malik slouched on his cushion, and pouted. "Love is love, who cares what society thinks? Can't he be a great doctor _**and**_ have a boyfriend at the same time? The two things aren't really related."

I smiled, thinking it was kind of cute for Malik to be taking a corny manga so seriously. He really could be so naïve sometimes. I couldn't resist leaning over and ruffling his hair, like a kid. "It's only a story, Malik-san. If you feel really strongly about this problem, then you're in a great position to make a difference. Instead of getting press for stupid things, why don't you use the media's attention to show your support for gay rights?"

I got up from the couch, intent on making some tea; unaware of the lavender orbs that followed my movements contemplatively.

**21 Days Left—Sunday, October 11****th**

It seemed that Malik had brought home not one, but _three_ yaoi-themed mangas home from god-knows-where. He had spent every evening this week pouring over them, studying them as closely as one would a textbook before a big test.

And of course, in all this time, we barely made any conversation. Whenever I tried to approach him to question this strange behavior, he would brush me off, or annoy me with monosyllabic responses.

"Malik-san, this is ridiculous!" I finally snapped, when he'd brought a book with him to the dinner table. I'd thought I'd at _least_ have his attention over supper! "Why are you so focused on those silly books? I didn't know you were an _otaku_," I complained, highly irritated.

"Research," he grunted vaguely. But then, as if he'd only just registered my insult he looked up and scowled at me. "And whose the _otaku_, girly-man?" he added.

I ignored his childish retort. "_Research_? With a yaoi manga? What could you possibly be researching? How guys _do_ it in the bedroom?"

Suddenly, the plausibility of this accusation hit me full-force, and I flushed deeply. "Err—I mean … a-are you? I mean—_**no!**_ Nope, none of my business; never mind!" I felt like my blood would burst from my pores, I was blushing so hard. I closed my eyes and put my head on the table. "Oh god." How humiliating … and I'd blundered right into it!

Warm, bubbling laughter filled the air around me, interrupting my distress. Looking up, I saw Malik nearly doubled-over in laughter, clutching his stomach and clenching his eyes against tears of hilarity.

"You're laughing at me?" I would have supposed him to be just as embarrassed, if not more so, than I! Instead, he was acting like I had told the funniest joke in the world. I felt irritated again.

"No … no. I'm sorry. It's just … that was hilarious. You should have seen your face," Malik chuckled, wiping his eyes.

No matter how friendly Malik and I grew, Malik would always be Malik—brutally honest and unashamed of it. "Yeah, sure … maybe in another day or so I'll be able to laugh with you," I grumbled back.

He laughed again, but it was smaller and quieter. "… I know I've been weird about these stupid books lately. But I didn't mean to make you upset." He looked down at the manga he'd brought to supper with him thoughtfully. After a few moments of silent consideration, he slammed the cover shut with a snap.

"Malik-san, what's going on? I mean; I know I don't know you _that _well yet, but I would have thought this to be very unlike you."

"Yeah, it isn't. I've just … I've been having _problems_; I suppose you could say, with something. I thought I could find the answer in these books, that's all," he sighed, twisting a lock of gold hair around his finger. He kept his gaze on the table, avoiding direct eye contact. Though his skin was dark, I could just make out a red stain along his cheekbones.

A million questions raced through my mind, each demanding to be asked and answered. But I ignored them. I didn't have the right to invade Malik's privacy and barge in on his personal struggle. His problems were his alone, until he asked for help. _'After all … we're not even really friends …'_

That thought hurt me more than it should have.

Remembering the other night, and the mistrust I had seen in the blonde's eyes, I decided on a question to ask. "…Did you find what you were looking for?"

Malik smiled, and looked up at me. I knew I had chosen the right thing to say when I saw the relief on his face. "No. It turns out they were just stupid stories, after all …"

**20 Days Left— Monday, October 12****th**

"Hey … Yugi-san …"

It was lunch hour at the company, and Yugi and I were sitting outside the corporate building at our favorite bench, eating sandwiches. We were relatively alone—the people passing by on the sidewalk were, as they always were, too lost in their own tiny ego-revolved worlds to look at two lowly salary men.

All morning, I had been running through the events of the weekend over and over in my head—Malik's obsession with the yaoi manga, his admittance to having a "problem," and the strange conclusion that he'd find a solution in a tactless M-rated BL drama.

"Hmm..?" Yugi hummed around his turkey sandwich, eyes wide and gossip-sensors obviously standing at attention. I had to chuckle at the picture.

"I had a really … _interesting_ weekend with Malik-san. Some strange things happened … and I've come to the realization that he may not _trust_ me."

Yugi swallowed, and his eyes brightening in interest. "Huh. You think he's having trust issues? What makes you say that? What happened?"

Quietly, I told him about Malik's yaoi mangas, the avoiding and the shutting himself up in his room, and the strained conversations between us … culminating with the realization that we hadn't grown as friendly as I'd thought after the police incident (which I had already told Yugi all about.)

Yugi remained silent for a spell after I'd finished, thoughtfully mulling over all the information I'd given him while he nibbled on his food. Then, after taking a sip of water, he turned to me and said, "Yaoi manga? That's kind of hard to picture. He said he was looking for a solution to some kind of problem?"

"Yes. He wouldn't tell me specifically, but that's the gist of it. That's why I'm wondering if he doesn't trust me," I explained with a frown.

"So obviously he's having thoughts about his sexuality. Something happened last week that caused some change in him—did anything strange happen?"

I furiously shook my head. "No! Everything was normal. There was just that one little incident at the police station …"

Yugi hummed again, looking pensive. "Now, don't overreact, Ryou, but … do you think he perhaps didn't confide in you about his problems because _you're_ the cause of them?"

I nearly choked on a piece of roast beef at that. "W-what?!"

Yugi slapped me a couple of times on the back, while saying, "Just think about it! It's really cliché when you think about it. He was the lost little lamb, alone and surrounded by strangers; and in you sweep, comforting him and taking him home. He probably wouldn't admit it, but he must have been terrified back then. Nobody likes to feel lost."

"I … I don't get it. Why would that make him _question_ anything, you know, _sexual_?"

"Well, it's like a fairytale! You, the brave knight, saved the damsel-in-distress from the evil dragon!"

"…If, by 'dragon,' you mean a balding Korean cab driver who yelled a lot and smelled like kimchi."

Yugi laughed. "All I'm saying is that there's a lot of gratitude and admiration that can come out of a situation like that. If he's not used to feeling that kind of thing, I'm sure it would be really confusing."

My heart pounded in my chest as I remembered how distressed he'd been, wild-eyed and twisting at his hair—and when he saw me come into the police station, the look of gratified relief … was Yugi right? Could it possibly be that Malik … that Malik-san had _feelings_ for me?

"No way," I finally said, shaking my head. "There's just no way it would be _me._ Something had to have happened during school or something. Maybe I should inquire about it …"

Yugi looked at his watch, and then gathered his belongings to go back inside. "Well, I think it's the most logical answer, but you know him best. If you think that it's impossible, you're probably right."

I gathered my belongings as well, throwing the trash into the bin and standing up. "Yeah …"

Malik wasn't in love with me; it was impossible. Something had happened, and when he felt ready to open up to me about, I'd be ready and waiting to listen with open ears.

Yugi and I went back to work, and I resolutely ignored the little sense of disappointment that came along with this thought.

**Later that night …**

"I'm home!"

Loosening my tie, I dropped my briefcase by the door and slipped off my shoes. It had been a long day at work and I was looking forward to relaxing on the sofa with a cup of tea.

"Welcome back."

I looked up, and promptly choked on my saliva, which brought on a sputtering coughing fit. Malik was standing there in nothing but a small white towel, dripping wet and looking completely nonchalant. He had obviously just gotten out of the shower, but _what_ he was doing wandering around my house naked was beyond me.

"I put the tea kettle on a few seconds ago, just like you showed me. I turned the right burner on and everything! You know, I'm really starting to get the hang of this 'boiling water' business."

I hadn't heard a word he said, because he had gone and put his smooth, lean chest _right_ in my line of vision, and now I … couldn't help but … _stare_ …

"I also took a bus by myself today! I didn't get lost this time, not even once!" He was probably waiting for a congratulations or something, but my tongue was suddenly this massive unresponsive lump in my throat, and I couldn't speak. I swallowed.

He stood there awkwardly in wake of my silence. "Umm … okay. I'll just … yeah." He hesitated, then turned around and left the room. And _dammit_ I wanted to call him back, to say something to him, but I couldn't get my _damn_ tongue unglued! And it certainly didn't help that the strong lines of his back left _very_ little to the imagination … honestly, that towel may as well not even _be _there!

In a stupor, I plopped down on the couch. _Ryou, what's the __**matter**__ with you? Since when do you find men so attractive?_ I sighed. There had been a girl or two in the picture back in high school, but not afterwards. I had had other agendas and goals, and not much thought had been put to romance or relationships.

Unbidden, Yugi's words came back into my head. _'Do you think perhaps that he didn't confide in you about his problems because __**you're**__ the cause of them?'_

"Ah, damn." I threw my arm over my eyes, feeling my exhaustion stronger than ever. Things were starting to get even more complicated, and I didn't think I could handle it. Why were all of these awkward thoughts coming up _now?_ Could it be that I was just sexually frustrated? Perhaps I _should_ start dating again …

"Tired?"

Startled, I looked up into Malik's glittering lavender eyes, feeling the leftover water from his hair drip onto my face. He was leaning over me from behind the sofa, and it looked like he was all ready to forget the awkward tension between us.

I looked back into those sparkling, lively eyes of his, and suddenly the tension was back again—only this time, it was different. He cocked his head slightly, staring at my face, but he looked calm and maybe even slightly curious. My attention was drawn to a water droplet as it slid down a lock of his damp straw-colored hair, and on a whim, I lifted my hand to catch the drop on my finger as it fell.

I was about to bring my arm back down, when suddenly he caught my wrist in his hand, still looking into my eyes. My eyes snapped back to his, and were caught in their own right. His gaze was so crystalline, so bright … he had me in his grasp, but true to his naïve nature he didn't seem to know what to do at that point—a slight tug to pull me closer, a slip of his fingers to push me back?

"Malik … san …"

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

We both jumped as the teakettle in the kitchen cut through the tension with its shrill whistle, indicating that the tea water was ready.

Unceremoniously, Malik dropped my wrist and stood up as if nothing had happened. "Oh. Tea's ready." And he left. He just _left_, dammit!

I went limp, still overwhelmed with emotion. "Ah, hell …" Complicated. A complicated, confusing mess, that's what I was in.

What do I do?

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